


we found each other in the dark

by cendal



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-19
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:10:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cendal/pseuds/cendal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of timelines in which Eridan and Karkat are romantically involved, or at least preludes to said romantic entanglement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers they meet again and smooch

You’re young when you first meet him. He’s ventured out to the shore, farther away from his hive than you thought lusii would allow their charges to go; you’re with Feferi in the ocean, your hair slick while hers billows out, a black cloud against the dark blue of the sea. You don’t know who he is, don’t know why someone would sit on the large flat rocks, but you want to. Feferi stifles a giggle as you swim toward him, endlessly graceful and silent, completely in your element.

He’s looking around, a little tense, like he thinks he might be discovered for doing something he shouldn’t be, and that both confuses and fascinates you. You pop out of the water, flicking your hair out of your face, and before he can do much more than jump, startled, you’re asking him, “What’re you doin’?”

He scrambles back, his eyes wide with something that looks a little like fear. “What the fuck?” he sputters, reaching for something by his side that flashes in the dim light as it’s shifted. It’s a curved blade, you see as he lifts it a few inches, grips it tightly in his hand like he thinks he’ll have to use it. His mouth works, trying to say something but can’t figure out how to word it, and after a few more seconds, he gives up and reiterates, “What the _fuck_?”

You rest your elbows on the rocks that feel strangely warm from his body heat. “I asked,” you say, exaggeratedly slow, “what you’re doin’ over here.” You pronounce the v carefully, making sure you say it correctly. “Ain’t ne’er seen you before, least in these parts.”

He still looks guarded, and, well, why shouldn’t he be? You squint at the symbol on his shirt; it looks to be a sort of gray, which you don’t quite understand. Is he hiding his blood color? The only reason he’d have to do that is because he’s low on the hemospectrum. That might explain why he’s on the defensive, but it doesn’t explain why he’s here by the water.

“I don’t need to tell you anything,” he sneers, and you have to admire how his voice doesn’t shake. He rises into a crouch, torn between fight and flight, and for some reason, you don’t want him to go.

“Hey,” you begin, trying to sound soft but you end up sounding sharp and brisk. You ignore the cringe he makes, the half-step back. “Can’t blame a guy for wantin’ to know. It’s just that you ain’t anywhere close to bein’ a seadweller, or e’en an indigoblood from the looks of it.”

You don’t know why that doesn’t make him relax, even a little bit. He just narrows his eyes at you, his brows furrowed, inquisitive with something of anger in his eyes. “It sounds like a good thing I don’t live here because if you’re anything to go by, no one has a fully-functioning thinkpan.”

You blink and then you’re barking out a laugh, tipping your head back. He’s afraid, you can tell, but he tries so hard to cover it up that it’s funny. “Y’know,” you tell him, your voice silky while you smile, “I could cull you for sayin’ that.”

His lips are a thin line, as though he doesn’t think it’s as much of a joke than it is a threat. “Excuse me, your highness,” he says, grave and mocking and contrasting his body language. “I wasn’t aware you were in a position to do that. Would you like a prize?”

“ _Fuck_ yes,” you say earnestly, and you think that maybe you’re teasing each other. You don’t have much experience with this colder form of it; you and Feferi just make fun of each other constantly, harmless and improper for those of your stations. “Make it out to Eridan Ampora, the best thing to e’er grace Alternia.”

He snorts, his grasp on his sickle loosening as he relaxes minutely, as if he’s decided that you aren’t likely to be a threat. “Are all seadwellers as arrogant as you are?” he asks dryly, a hint of genuine curiosity behind it.

You’re so focused on him that you actually forget about Feferi until she tickles your foot on her way to join you above the surface, pushing up her goggles. She doesn’t seem to notice how he goes right back to tensing up as she informs you, “I was waiting for you to leave him alone, but you’re taking so LONG!” For a moment, she sounds spoiled, whiny, but then she’s just Feferi, your moirail.

“Sorry, he’s interestin’.” It’s not quite an apology, and you look back at him even as you say it; he’s edged farther away from you, flicking his gaze from her to you and back again. “Don’t die on your way back,” you tell him, light and teasing as you slide back from the stones. He looks surprised for a second before giving a jerky nod.

As you swim away, Feferi chattering next to you, you wonder if you’ll see him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is bad im sorry

It hurts, a little, when you think about it, so you don't. Or at least, you try not to. You spend your time killing the angels on your rundown land (you hate how they look, their torsos blending into tendrils, tears visible on their faces) and talking to Karkat.

You lose yourself between the minutes of sustained gunfire and the conversations where Karkat is like a soothing balm. He's the only one you talk to right now; the rest are conspicuously absent, busy on their own quests, and you've already saved Nepeta's life. She has no use for you now, much like another girl, one with fins and a smile that could brighten up your day but currently brings a sour taste to your mouth.

Karkat's the only one who takes the time to chat with you, to keep up with what you're doing. You think that maybe, he's the only one who understands.

But that's changed now. You responded to a memo, and the Karkat in the future berated you, yelling at you for some sort of murder and assuming you were hitting on him when you asked him to tell his past self to come on over to your land. You don't know what went wrong or why things are going downhill.

You just want one good thing to happen, and you thought that he could be that. How stupid of you.

Another angel is incinerated with a shriek that makes your ears ring, and you slump against the wall behind you, looking around to make sure you're alone. You've already suffered from too many close calls. You take a few seconds to just breathe before straightening up and cautiously turn the corner. You make your way to the largest mostly-intact building, something that might have once been a church.

You're turning to its street when you bump into someone, and you nearly drop your weapon. You're frantically hoping it isn't an angel when they fall back a step, cursing; it's Karkat, you realize, a warm feeling easing into you. "The fuck are you doin' here?" you demand, rougher than intended, and he scowls at you.

"To see you in action, why else?" When your only reaction is quirking an eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. "Because I saw the memo, alright?" he says, like he's forcing it past his teeth. "I figured that if you're really that desperate for my company, I could come over and watch you die of your own stupidity."

You almost smile, but you hear the cries of the angels, distant but coming closer. Karkat's eyebrows knit together and his mouth opens, about to comment, but you grab his wrist and start dragging him to the chapel. "I'll explain when we get there," you promise, and the wings of one of the beasts hovers into your view as you pull the two of you into the doors of the cathedral.

You shut them, and he asks you incredulously, "Wait, that was one of your angels?" When you nod, he gives you a look of disbelief. "Are you sure they aren't your consorts or something?"

"What?" you ask blankly. "Kar, I think I'd know if creatures on _my_ land were my goddamn consorts. If you saw 'em close up, you'd understand." You pause and your mouth slowly curves into a grin. "Do you want to?"

"Do I want to _what_?" he snaps, automatic, before registering your meaning. His eyes widen before narrowing into slits. "Why the everliving _fuck_ would I want to meet the pain-in-the-ass winged demons you've been harping on about for the past few hours?"

"'Cause you're an idiot who came here to cheer me up," you reply impishly, and his lips twitch like he's suppressing a smile. "'Sides, it ain't like there's anythin' else to do here. I wasn't kiddin' when I was tellin' you there ain't no way these screechin' assholes are gonna let me walk the streets unharmed."

He crosses his arms, looking at you with a supremely unimpressed expression that kind of makes you want to hold his face. "If you can't recognize that as your own fault, I will strangle you right here with my bare hands and kick open this door to fling your corpse to the angels so that they can tear at your flesh with their teeth. I will pretend to be sad, but really I'll just make a memo about it and we'll all throw a goddamn party, complete with party hats and customized napkins. If I can get to your body in time, I'll save your blood as a sauce."

You huff a sigh when all you want to do is laugh. "Sounds like more trouble than it's worth."

He shrugs, and you think that you like him better like this, joking around, with the lines on his face--caused by his usual annoyed countenance--smoothed out. "Probably," he says, "which is why you should admit that you're the entire reason they're ready to murder everything in sight." He stops a moment to glance around, like he needs to make sure he won't be overheard, before continuing in a more amused tone, "Nice job, by the way; I don't think I've told you that yet. It figures that you'd be the only one capable of pissing off an entire planet of angels."

You duck your chin to cover a smile. "And you're the only one who'd e'en think of bein' ticked off at that," you return, finally slipping away from the door to walk further into the building as he scoffs. It feels a little ominous to you, with the still air and the darkened pews. You hear his footsteps behind you, a slow follow, and you turn to make a comment to him--to remark on his silence, maybe--but the words die on your lips when you see him.

He's standing beside a pew, the dim light of one of the stained glass windows filtering through to fall on him, dousing him in dull colors. He's found a prayer book and is looking at it pensively, his teeth pressed against his lower lip, his hair curling against his cheeks and the nape of his neck, and your breath catches in your throat as you think, _he's beautiful_.

He looks up after a second, his eyes meeting yours. The serenity of it is taken away when he frowns in a mix of anxiety and annoyance. "What?" he asks, sounding irritated most of all.

"Nothin'," you respond numbly, tearing your gaze away. You tell yourself to ignore every feeling that isn't strictly friendship. As you glance back at him--he's still gazing at you, more confused than anything, now--you wish that you had an actual reason to deny every shred of affection you have towards him that leaps over the line of friendship into the territory of a lot of ridiculous text hearts.

"Dude," he says, concern evident in his voice. You don't want to look at him, but you do anyway, like he has his own gravitational pull. "Are you ok?" The words are soft as he sets down the book, taking a step toward you.

You shake your head, more at yourself than as an answer. "I don't know," you confess helplessly, raking a hand through your hair. "It's just--feelin's fuckin' _suck_." The problem is that you don't know how to express yourself, and you never have. You don't know how to explain it in a way that won't make it sound like you're trying to use him as a rebound or just hitting on him for the hell of it, and--you don't want him to think that.

You aren't all that sure of what you want, but you know that much.

His expression softens, and something in your chest _aches_. "That was pretty shitty, yeah, but you can't dwell on it forever. Your life never revolved around her, so you shouldn't act like it's the end of the world." You look at each other for a moment, incredulous, before he chuckles and you crack a smile. "Holy shit, that was bad."

"It was," you agree, and how is it that he can make you feel lighter than air?

There's a difference in your feelings for Feferi and Karkat, you think; with Feferi, you outright pity (pitied?) her, don't want her to get hurt or worse. With Karkat, it's more of a pure sort of adoration, where you want to cover him up in the safest and softest blanket in all the worlds and kiss him, too, if he lets you.

He speaks again, startling you out of your thoughts. "Seriously, though, you're just fine without her." That may be stretching it a bit, but the strangest part is that he sounds like he's trying to convince himself as well as you. He seems to catch this, because he abruptly changes the subject. "Why are we hiding in here, anyway?"

"It was all a ploy to get you alone in a dark room," you deadpan before you can stop yourself. You go along with it, gesturing as you stroll toward him. "The angels are secretly woyeurs--" you stumble over the word-- "who wanna see some hardcore fuckin' makeouts. I was tellin' them, naw, they can't see none of that, and they got stupidly angry about it. That's why they're after my head."

He regards you with a sort of bemused, indulgent look, comparable to a someone thinking their moirail is being silly, as you stop within a foot of him. You aren't that much taller than him, an inch or two at most. "What else were they expecting?" he says, playing along. "I can't imagine anyone coming over here at all, much less for the purpose to _make out in front of angels_."

"That's debatable," you say, "considerin' _you_ came here, o responsible and busy leader." Both of you stand in the murky colors of the windows, and it's easier to see the blends up close, the shades of colors cast on his face. You want to press your hands to his face, splay your fingers out, and brush your lips against his.

His lips curl just slightly into a faint smile. "You're more important." He says it like it's simple, like it's impossible to assume otherwise, and you--yeah, you're a goner. If you didn't already love him enough, you're head over heels for him now, and the intensity of it takes your breath away.

You don't know what to say, so you cup his face, your thumbs across his cheekbones, and he looks at you steadily. "Shit, Kar," you whisper, raggedly, and you almost kiss him; instead, you press your forehead against his. When you exhale, he inhales, and nothing's ever felt this easy before.


End file.
